Cora’s eyes widened, her brows rose, and her mouth formed a perfect circle. She blinked and the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. In an instant. “I want what Thornton wants.”
No she didn’t. There was no way shy, retiring Cora wanted to be standing in my foyer waiting for fifty guests. She couldn’t possibly enjoy planning luncheons (no one enjoyed that but Mother). And there was no way she liked having Mother boss her around.
“You can say no. A woman can always say no.”
She snorted softly. “Maybe you can.”
Mother bustled into the foyer looking like a general whose troops had appeared on a parade ground with their shirts untucked. “Cora, you’re here.” Her tone suggested Cora was late. “Where’s Thornton?”
“He dropped me off. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Mother’s expression turned indulgent, which is to say the thin line of her mouth softened. “Just like a man. Harrington’s glued to the evening newscast.” She directed her gaze at me. “What time is Hunter coming?”
“He’s not.” There was no way I was explaining why.
Ding dong
My gaze shifted to my wrist. Not yet a quarter after five. It had to be Thornton at the door. I gripped the handle and pulled, ready with a welcoming smile.
Aunt Sis, wrapped in a ruana, stood on the stoop. “Ellison, there you are. Do you realize how difficult it’s been to get ahold of you?”
Difficult enough that I had no idea she was coming. Or staying. A small suitcase rested on the bricks next to her.
Behind me, Mother’s sharp intake of breath, recognizable from a hundred yards away, expressed extreme displeasure. They’d been getting along so well. What was wrong?
“Is David all right?”
“He’s fine.”
I opened the door wider and a second chill gust assaulted my legs. “Come in out of the cold.”
Aunt Sis picked up her suitcase, stepped inside, and looked around. “You’re getting ready to entertain.” No flies on Aunt Sis. “Frances, I didn’t realize you’d be here.” She dropped the case and wrapped Mother in a swirl of flowing fabric.
Mother’s face, over Aunt Sis’ shoulder, was slack. Shocked. And not in a what-a-fabulous-surprise-to-see-my-sister way. Mother looked—I narrowed my eyes and studied her carefully—worried.
Why?
The two sisters parted and Aunt Sis spotted Cora. If she was surprised by Cora’s presence or her awful dress, my aunt hid it well. “How lovely to see you, Cora.” She followed this pronouncement with another swirly hug.
If Mother had looked shocked, Cora looked petrified.
Aunt Sis, with her head hooked over Cora’s stiff shoulder, didn’t notice.
“Don’t worry,” Aunt Sis said. “I won’t crash your party. I just need a place to lay my head tonight.”
Manners, ingrained in me since birth, kicked in (Mother had only herself to blame). “Of course you must join the party, and I’m delighted you’re here. Do you mind if I put you in the rose room? They’re using the blue room for coats.”
The young man from the caterer reappeared and hefted (Aunt Sis traveled with lead bricks masquerading as books) the small suitcase up the front stairs.
“The rose room is perfect.” Aunt Sis eyed the floral arrangement resting on the bombe chest that sat in the foyer. “What’s the occasion?”
“Cora is chairing a luncheon, and Ellison is hosting the benefactors’ party.” The way Mother said benefactor made it clear my aunt was not invited. Not unless she wanted to pull out her checkbook. Maybe not even then.
“Aunt Sis can attend as my guest.”
“Thank you, Ellison.” Aunt Sis’s eyes positively twinkled. “But I’d like to lie down for a bit. Perhaps I’ll join you later.” She climbed the first few steps.
“Grace is upstairs in her room. She’d love to see you.”
“And I’d love to see her.”
Mother, Cora, and I watched Aunt Sis climb the rest of the stairs and disappear down a hallway.
“Oh my.” Cora’s words were nearly lost in a giant exhalation of breath.
“It’s not a problem, Cora.”
“What are you two talking about?” What was going on?
“Never you mind.” Mother flipped her wrist, dismissing my question.
I did mind. A lot. “Now just a minute—”
Ding dong.
“Ellison, get the door.” Mother was nothing if not imperious.
I stared at her for a few seconds—glowered, really—just so she knew I didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark.
She ignored my glare. Mother was nothing if not impervious. To me. If Daddy had narrowed his eyes, lowered his brows and chin, and thinned his lips, Mother would have moved heaven and earth to remove the expression from his face. “Ellison, the door.”
I swallowed a frustrated sigh and answered the door.
Thornton stood on the other side looking like a minor movie star. He had the strong jaw, the firm lips, the salt and pepper hair, and the physique. He’d have looked like a major movie star except for his eyes. I never liked my cousin’s eyes. They had all the warmth of the arctic wind that entered with him.
He dropped the chilly whisper of a kiss on my cheek. “Ellison, you look lovely. Thank you so much for doing this.”
“My pleasure.”
“Frances, you look beautiful. That purple suits you.”
He wasn’t wrong. Mother, who wore a purple tweed Chanel suit which set off the brilliant white of her hair, looked positively regal. She lifted her hand, touched her pearls, and smiled up at him.
Thornton’s gaze landed on Cora’s beige sack and he shook his head as if she was a lost cause. “Frances picked out your dress for tomorrow, didn’t she?”
Cora nodded. Poor woman. All she really needed was a belt and the right scarf tied at her neck.
Thornton shifted his gaze to the closed, locked door to Henry’s study. “After the week you’ve had, I appreciate your opening your home.”
As if I’d had a choice. “Happy to do it.” The lie made my nose itch.
Thornton shifted his gaze back to Mother. “How many are we expecting tonight?”
“Around fifty. With the weather, a few people called to cancel. I encouraged my friends to send their children in their stead.”
Thornton shrugged out of his coat and folded it over his arm.
“The young man who’s helping with coats got detained upstairs.” He’d probably herniated a disc lifting Aunt Sis’ suitcase onto the rack.
“Cora can take it.” He handed the coat to his wife.
Cora wasn’t there to carry coats. “He’ll be back in a moment.”
Thornton waved away my words. “She doesn’t mind, do you, dear?”
“Of course not.” Cora’s face looked pale and pinched. A trip up a staircase might finish her off.
I took the coat from Cora’s hands. “Don’t be silly. You’re a guest in my home. Go get a drink. Chester’s set up and ready in the living room. I’ll run this upstairs.”
No one moved.
“Go.” I waved toward the living room. “Shoo.”
They could suit themselves. I climbed the stairs, deposited Thornton’s coat next to his wife’s, headed to my bedroom and turned on the lights, pushing back the encroaching darkness.
There was something off tonight. Off beyond the unlikeliness of Mother and Cora sharing a secret. Off beyond Aunt Sis’ sudden arrival and her decision to skip a party. The energy downstairs skipped and stuttered like a scratched LP. Something awful was going to happen. Certainty ran through my veins.
I opened my dresser drawer and withdrew a coiled crocodile belt. The shade of brown might not exactly match Cora’s shoes, but it was close enoug
h. Cora’s frozen expression when she saw Aunt Sis flitted across my brain, and my fingers tightened around the belt. What was Aunt Sis up to? “You’re being silly,” I murmured. The Ellison in the mirror hanging above the dresser didn’t believe me, Aunt Sis was always up to something.
“Silly.” I opened a second drawer and my fingers closed on the heavy silk twill of an Hermes scarf. The muted colors would work with Cora’s beige. “Nothing is going to happen tonight.”
The Ellison in the mirror cocked her chin and shook her head.
I turned my back on her, went into the bathroom, and grabbed a tube of soft pink lipstick. Cora’s thin lips could do with some color. Of course, Ellison in the mirror was there too. Stony-faced with certainty that disaster waited to pounce.
I turned off the light and headed downstairs to the living room where Mother and Thornton were deep in conversation and Cora stood alone, picking at the napkin on her cocktail glass. “Cora, would you come into the kitchen with me? Please?”
She paused, looked at Thornton as if waiting for permission.
He didn’t bother looking at her. “If Ellison needs your help, go.”
I led Cora to the kitchen. “I hope you won’t be cross with me, but I thought that dress would look so much better with a belt. I grabbed one when I was upstairs.” Before she could object, I looped the narrow belt around her waist.
She was truly slender, there was no explaining why she hid her figure in frumpy dresses.
“You do the buckle,” I instructed.
With shaking fingers, she complied.
“Perfect. Now, how about a scarf? It will soften the neckline of your dress.” I folded the scarf into a triangle, tied it around Cora’s neck, and fluffed. “Lovely.” I pulled out my final prop—the lipstick—and handed it to her. “It’s a soft pink and very flattering.”
I took putting on lipstick for granted, could do it with my eyes closed. Not Cora. She pressed hard enough to push her thin lips to the side, finished, and returned the tube to me.
“Smoosh your lips together. Like this.” I demonstrated.
Cora smooshed.
I stood back and admired. She looked infinitely better. “Thornton won’t recognize you.”
She swallowed loud enough for me to hear the lump in her throat. “Thank you.” Tears stood in her eyes. “You’re very kind.”
“My pleasure.” I grabbed a stray cocktail off the kitchen counter and handed it to her.
She daubed her eyes.
“What’s up with you and Mother?” I asked, my voice light as the meringue dotting the dessert tartlets laid out on silver trays.
Cora stiffened. “Nothing.”
The certainty that we were barreling toward disaster took me by the throat and shook. “You’re sure?”
Cora nodded. “Positive. I’d better go back. Thornton will be wondering where I am.” She pushed through the kitchen door.
I watched her go. Cora was lying.
twelve
I stood at the door, welcomed Cora’s benefactors into my home, and wished I’d had the sense to throw a sweater over my shoulders. The first snowflakes charmed. The thousands that followed did not. It was too early in the season for such weather, but every time I opened the door a fresh gust of snow and cold assaulted me.
“Lorna, how lovely to see you.” Lorna, one of Mother’s friends, had her son in tow. I held out my hand to him. “Tom, what a treat.”
Tom took my hand in his and shook.
“Is Laurie coming?”
“She’s at home.” Lorna answered for her son. “I didn’t want to brave the roads alone.”
“Of course not. This nice young man will take your coats upstairs.”
They took off their coats and handed them over.
“You should have had valet parking, dear.” Like Mother, Lorna didn’t pull her punches.
Tom offered me an apologetic shrug. When your mother was a termagant there wasn’t much else you could do. This I knew.
“You’re absolutely right, Lorna. My only excuse is that there was no snow in the forecast.”
“Hmph.” She looked as if she had more to say. Lots more.
“Why don’t you go into the living room and warm up? The fire is roaring, and Chester has a bar set up.”
“An excellent idea.” Was it the fire or the drink that trumped telling me how I’d failed? Or both?
With an apologetic glance my way, Tom escorted his mother into the living room.
Ding dong.
I steeled myself for another blast of cold and opened the door.
Daniel Fleming waited on the other side, his arm draped around a woman half his age. For a moment, reality rendered me mute. Reality was ex-wives living in efficiency apartments and spritzing perfume at makeup counters because they had no job skills. Reality was their ex-husbands reliving their youths with girls not yet old enough to know better. Reality was rather bleak.
“Daniel.” I waved him and the girl into my home. “Welcome.”
“Don’t close that door!” Jinx and Preston hurried up the front steps.
I blinked, quite sure they weren’t on the guest list. “Come in.”
Jinx didn’t tarry. She entered the foyer and stamped her feet a time or two (her pumps were not made for snow). “The weather is wretched so Mother stayed home. She insisted we come in her place.”
Preston stepped forward and dropped a polite kiss on my cheek. “Thank you for letting us crash your party.”
“Don’t be silly, I’m delighted you’re here.”
“We’ll just grab a quick drink, say hello to Cora, and be on our way,” said Jinx. “The roads are getting slick.”
“I don’t blame you a bit. Here’s the young man to take your coats.” I really needed to ask for the young man’s name.
Jinx and Preston de-coated, de-scarfed, and in Preston’s case, de-galoshed.
“You know Daniel Fleming, don’t you? And this is his friend…”
“Cherry,” he supplied. Oh dear Lord—if Mother met her I’d be treated to a treatise on why people should not name their children after food.
Preston shook Daniel’s hand.
Jinx managed a polite smile. “How nice to meet you, Cherry.” She turned to me. “We’ll get out of your hair.” Now she addressed the group. “Let’s go find a drink.”
Ding dong.
I shivered in advance of opening the door.
Mary Beth and Pete Brewer stood on the other side.
That was a surprise. Last I’d seen them Mary Beth was having dinner with a divorce attorney.
I forced a smile. “I’m so glad you could come. Come inside and get out of the cold.”
They took my suggestion and I closed the door behind them.
“What a treat to have you here,” I said.
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” said Pete.
Really?
“I’m a fan,” he added.
I ought to ask about the speaker. Probably I should have asked already. Except I didn’t much care who was speaking. I’d donated my table to the event; it wasn’t as if I was going to hear their talk.
Mary Beth wore a pained smile. “How’s your housekeeper?”
“Aggie?” Mary Beth had been in the parking lot when Bess died. “She’s fine.”
“She seemed genuinely upset.”
“She was. Her husband gave her that car years ago.”
“And she drove it until it fell apart?” Pete stepped behind Mary Beth and helped her shrug out of her coat.
“She did.” Rattles and knocks and rust and all.
The young man from the catering company descended the stairs.
“Oh good, here’s…”
“Roberto,” h
e supplied.
“Roberto. He’s here to take your coats.”
Pete gave Roberto Mary Beth’s coat then shrugged out of his own.
“Everyone is in the living room.” I waved toward the room that held liquor, a fire, and even a harpist. “Please, go make yourselves at home.”
Mary Beth paused, her gaze landing on the only closed door in the foyer. “Is that where…”
Where Khaki had died? “Yes.” Dread. That was the word that described the sick feeling in my stomach. Dread.
“It seems so awful. We were in the parking lot of the Milgrim’s and someone was in your house killing her.”
I nodded. Awful didn’t begin to cover it.
“Khaki was working for us too. Did you know?”
“No. I didn’t realize.” Apparently Khaki had kept very busy.
“Ridiculously expensive.” Pete draped an arm across Mary Beth’s shoulders. “Let’s get you out of this cold.” He jerked his chin toward the living room filled with warmth and liquor and people.
Mary Beth glanced up at him, her face pale with the memory of her dead decorator. “Of course, dear.” But she lingered. Lingered and leaned. “You saw us at our worst,” she whispered. She meant the restaurant where Pete had made such a scene. “I decided to give him one more chance.”
“You know best.” Cheaters cheated. Almost as if they couldn’t help themselves. I had firsthand knowledge.
She offered me a small, tight smile and followed her husband into the living room.
People arrived in groups after that. Fours and sixes. Air kisses and cold ankles and polite platitudes. Everyone hurried to the living room. At six o’clock I left my post at the front door and checked the dining room.
Mother had selected shrimp curry and steamed rice served with pineapple and date chutney. There were poppadoms. There were gingered coconut chips. There were cold poached eggs settled onto artichoke bottoms held together with aspic. The food sat on polished silver. Someone had lit the tapers. Everything was perfect.
I popped into the kitchen. “Aggie, I’ve given up front door duty. I’ll tell everyone they can help themselves to the buffet.”
Watching the Detectives Page 11
